


but break, my heart, for i must hold my tongue

by solitariusvirtus, tenten_d



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drabble Collection, F/M, Genderbending, Uncle/Niece Incest, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-08 09:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4299336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenten_d/pseuds/tenten_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The grieving king's daughter and her dreams of prophecies.</p><p>Or that AU in which Rhaegar loses Lyanna but gains a daughter and another brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet.

He held her small, delicate, damp hand in his own, eyes trained on her wan and waxen face. "Promise me," she managed between erratic gulps of breath, sucking air in as if she could never get enough. "Promise me, Rhaegar." Her grey gaze had been softened by ware and fever.

His lips moved of their own accord. _Anything_. Had he actually said it or only imagined it? Her fingers curled around his hand. Tightly. "Breathe, just breathe," he begged her. "Just keep breathing."

Her eyes glazed over. Her chest heaved. A small shuddering breath came trembling past her lips.

A nursemaid on her other side shook her head gently. "She's gone, Your Grace," she said, accented voice curling around his mind slowly.

Rhaegar looked at her with luminous eyes, his head automatically moving through the motion of a denial. 

A shrill cry pierced the deathly silence. "Your daughter, Your Grace."

Rhaegar looked towards the child. _Gods_ , _she_ _looked_ _just_ _like_ _Lyanna_. Horror filled him at the sight of her.


	2. Chapter 2

Eddard Stark had been expecting any number of things since his incarceration. Most involved a great deal of pain and a vast amount of bloodletting. They certainly did not include babes, that looked nearly the mirror of his sister, swaddled in cloth appearing anywhere within the black cells.

The King, he supposed Rhaegar was now the monarch, stood before him nonetheless with a child in his arms. Lyanna’s child very likely by its looks. 

“My sister,” he started before he could even think to censor himself.

That simple shake of the head which came as a reply nearly sent him to his knees. Words seemed superfluous. Yet they still came. “This is her–our daughter.”

He was allowed to take the child. Ned peered at the tiny face hardly able to conceive he was holding an entire human being. “Jocelyn. Lyanna always loved the name Jocelyn.” He did not rightly know why he was saying that to Rhaegar Targaryen of all people.

“Jocelyn,” the other man repeated slowly.

A yawn came from the babe as if in answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *the reason why I did not go for the classical Joanna is because Joanna is not a recorded Stark name. Jocelyn, on the other hand, is. And I really wanted to be a tiny, little bit different.


	3. Chapter 3

Jocelyn or, as she was affectionately called by her father, Jos was nearly one full year old when the Red Keep was blessed with the arrival of another infant of similar circumstances to her. Not in that it was a female child but in the fact that, not unlike Jos, the poor babe was one parent short. Unlike Jos, he did not miss a mother, but a father. 

And perhaps little Daeron Targaryen was all the better for it. Having been given by his mother an identical name to that of another son she’d long since lost, it seemed highly impossible the child should be called Daeron. The solution came via the King’s eldest daughter, Rhaenys. 

“Dany,” she promptly exclaimed upon seeing the babe and no one ever contradicted her.

So it became that Jocelyn and Daeron Targaryen were brought together for the very first time.

Needless to say, the magnitude of the moment flew right past both heads.


	4. Chapter 4

If Jos was the maiden with an interesting moniker that would lend itself better to a lad, then Dany was the perfect counterpart to her in that his own name would have undoubtedly sounded much better on a girl. Alas, fate would not have it so.

Jos and Dany, not only due to close age, but to a similar mindedness and tendencies much alike found themselves spending hours and days together under the careful watch of a host of servants and the strict tutelage of the Dowager Queen, since the Queen of the realm lacked the necessary amount of enthusiasm to impress upon her husband that she might indeed solve matters to his satisfaction. 

“Each mother loves her own children best,” the Dowager Queen told her son by way of explaining her good-daughter’s behaviour. “Had Jos’ mother lived, you may be certain she would not have allowed any other woman to care for her daughter.”

Jos and Dany were much too busy fidgeting around at that point to mind the inane words which made no sense to their ears.


	5. Chapter 5

The first time it happened, Jos was barely up to her father's knee and barely even aware of what it meant. She'd been napping in the godswood of the Red Keep under the watchful eye of Septa Mylin, without a care in the world.

Jos knew not how it started. But the memory of the dream itself would never leave her. She saw, as if from afar, a large winding road covered in ice and snow. All was quiet, not even a snowflake stirring. Thinking to get closer, Jos lurched forward with a squeal of glee.

It was then that the unthinkable happened. Fom beneath the blanket of snow came to the surface a blackened limb, thin,skeletal fingers gripping at Jos' ankle, the touch cold as death. Sounds of admration became screams of terror as nails dug into thin skin, ripping, drawing blood.

Jos woke up with a start, tears streaming down her face. Septa Mylin spoke to her soothingly. "A night terror,my sweet, is all. Do not pay it heed."

Above them the leaves of the heart tree rustled, their song akin to a death knell.         


	6. Chapter 6

Her visions increased in number, becoming brighter, clearer as she grew. Jocelyn had little inkling as to why, yet they were much stronger beneath the heart tree than anywhere else. Sometimes there was a voice as well, cold, damp, dead. It had frightened her at first, but she'd grown used to it. And she hid well all signs from the eyes of others.

 _Someday, when you are ready, tell the King_ , that had been the advice she wrangled from the faceless stranger who hid beneth the bark of carved faces.

Jocelyn thought she mightn't though. She had told her brother Aegon of it before his first tourney and he'd laughed when she had predicted that he would be unhorsed by Toebald Whent. The amusement had turned into resentment though.

"It must be witchcraft from your mother's Northerner blood," he had accused. "If you ever do it again, I shall tell father." Likely father would be displeased with it too.

Only Dany took her side. "Let him talk; you know how Aegon is." Important and assured and sharing an outlook with the parent they did not have in common. 

Perhaps it was the reason for which she loved her youngest uncle so well. 

  

 


	7. Chapter 7

Daeron sat down in the tall grass next to Jocelyn, their shoulders brushing together. "You don't have to hide from me. You know that, do you not?" 

She heaved a sigh and leaned further against him. "I dream of death, Dany. 'Tis not something anyone wishes to hear." Jocelyn pointed out to the red wandere. "If only I could be as free." Alas it was not to be.

"I couldn't reach you then," Daeron jokingly complained, wrapping an arm around her waist in a relaxed hold. "Better that you stay here by my side." 

"Do you truly think father shall wed Rhaenys to Aegon?" She worried, more for the realm than the two.

Shrugging, Daeron gave her a sidelong glance. "They were made for one another. Besides, I care not who my brother weds those two to." Jocelyn chose not to comment upon what he implied.

Instead, she closed her eyes and took comfort in Daeron's presence. Death was still a long way off, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

Jocelyn entered her father’s solar, her heart fluttering like the wings of a bird. She knew what he wished to speak of. Rhaegar looked up at the creak of the door and offered his youngest child a smile. Jocelyn gulped softly.

“Jos.” The greeting brushed against her ears lightly. “Come, I wish to speak to you.” Refraining from saying that she was aware of that, Jocelyn nodded her head and walked closer to him. 

He put away his quill and gave her a long look in the ensuing silence. Jocelyn waited, ever cautious.

“It is high time you were betrothed to someone.” Although she had been expecting the words, somehow they still managed to steal her breath away. He paused, as if searching for something.

Gathering her courage, Jocelyn looked her father in the eye and spoke. “I wish to wed Daeron.”


	9. Chapter 9

Rhaenys gave her a thin smile, sharp enough to cut wounds into the unsuspecting. “At least you had the decency to not seduce a wedded man. Perhaps you are less your mother’s daughter than I thought.” She did enjoy provoking Jocelyn and another time it might have worked. But not on her wedding day. Jocelyn snorted; as if she would want Aegon.

“Leave off, Your Grace. I have no interest in whatever displeasures you wish to heap upon me on this day.” If only they could finish lacing that dress faster. Gods, much more of her sister’s company and she would go stark raving mad. Jocelyn wished very dearly in that moment that she might truly know some magic, of the silencing kind.

A hundred more laces tied together later Jocelyn had finally made her escape into the wheelhouse which was to convey her to Baelor’s Sept. This is the song of ice and fire. The voice of the heart tree had told her once she’d shared her plans with it.


	10. Chapter 10

Dark wings beat steadily a pattern across the burning sky and the wind brushed against her. Somewhere ahead the sun was sinking down behind the horizon. 

A roar tore through the silence.

Jocelyn woke with a start, covering twisting around her lower half, making movement nearly impossible. Panting, as if exhausted, she turned her eyes upon her husband. Daeron stirred light, eyes opening slowly. She must have woken him.

“Night terror?” he questioned, sitting up sluggishly. Ever so gently, he brushed aside a rebellious strand of hair that had somehow escaped its confinements. “Gods, Jos, I can hear your heart beating all the way from here.”

Shaking her head, Jocelyn allowed herself to be sheltered in his embrace. “I saw dragons,” she whispered against the skin of his shoulder. “I saw dragons, Daeron.”

She heard his exhale. “Do you believe your tree friend might aid us?”

Jocelyn pulled away. She gazed at Daeron questioningly. “You do not doubt me?”

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done. Finally.
> 
> Well, this was interesting, but it is likely my first and last Dany/Jon.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it. :)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [we know what we are, but know not what we may be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7466646) by [solitariusvirtus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitariusvirtus/pseuds/solitariusvirtus)




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